


perfection

by coffeesjelly



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Bokuaka - Freeform, M/M, and bokuaka for bokuaka whores aka me, angst for angst bitches, idk why i wrote this, literally just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesjelly/pseuds/coffeesjelly
Summary: It was perfect. Too perfect, even. The kind of perfect that made Bokuto tear himself apart to save it, and the kind that made Akaashi wish for nothing more than to destroy it.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	perfection

**Author's Note:**

> hi loves! there's a lack of angsty stories about bokuto and akaashi falling out of love (they're made for each other, that's why) so I wrote a quick story to change that

“Is it me?” Bokuto managed to say after sitting next to his fiance in silence for a few minutes, or a few hours, he couldn’t tell. 

“Is what you?” Akaashi answered, not sparing a glance to the man beside him, turning the page of one of the mystery novels he enjoyed-- or used to enjoy, Bokuto never seemed to know anything about him anymore, pushing round glasses up the ridge of his sloping nose. 

“Is this all my fault?” Bokuto rolled on his side, back facing Akaashi who flickered his eyes at the muscles displayed to him, heart not skipping a beat like it used to. 

“What are you talking--” 

“You know what I mean,” Bokuto interrupted, Akaashi stopping and sighing, placing his book down on the bedside table next to the only lamp turned on in the room. 

“Do we have to talk about this now? It’s getting late and I have a meeting early tomorrow morning.” 

“Don’t act like we ever actually talk about it.” Bokuto sat back up to slip on the boxer-briefs laying on the ground, knees apart and elbows on them, hands cupping his face as he rubbed his eyes. 

“...I’m sorry.” 

“Why isn’t any of this good anymore?” He asked, both of them knowing he didn’t just mean the sex they attempted to have about an hour ago, that was filled with nothing but silence in an awkward air until Bokuto gave up after catching Akaashi glancing at the clock for the fifth time in the middle of it. 

It was quiet in the room now, but a painful one that was unlike how silence used to be years ago, when they could sit with each other and enjoy basking in the presence of someone they loved more than anything in the world. When they were people in love, instead of strangers in their own apartment. 

“Koutarou,” Akaashi began, changing the topic and avoiding the question, “Do you remember our first kiss?” 

“Up on the rooftop of your house when your parents were away,” Bokuto answered, sliding back onto the bed and under the sheets to join the man on the other side, slithering his hand over Akaashi’s, fitting together perfectly as they always had, “We were looking up at the stars on the last day before I had to go to college. I said how the sky reminded me of your eyes and when I looked at you, you were about to cry. So I kissed you to stop it. And it worked.” 

Yes, that was eight years ago now, when fireworks went off whenever they looked at each other, perfection at its finest. And two years after that they moved into an apartment together for college, _this apartment,_ decorating the halls and the inside with every trace of their love, from pictures to trinkets from high school, all of it was there. They were supposed to make the apartment feel more like a home, and for a time it did, but now they all seemed to stare at Bokuto, shaming him at this failure of a relationship as he denied it.

And just one year and seven months ago Bokuto proposed, in this apartment as well, and Akaashi cried but said yes, dancing with his fiance in the flickering of the candles and under the moon that congratulated them. But since then, not once had Akaashi talked about wedding plans, at first it was to enjoy being Bokuto’s fiance, but that turned into what he said was “to enjoy the moment” which Bokuto knew was a lie but didn’t mention. Maybe he should’ve taken that as a sign, part of him knew it but the majority denied it, and he continued on, refusing to give up on the familiarity of being in love with Akaashi. 

“That’s right,” Akaashi continued, gripping onto the fingers between his, “...Do my eyes still remind you of the sky?” 

It was uncomfortable. Not just the coldness of the room and the emptiness of the sheets but the way the words were asked and the way it wouldn’t matter what he said, it was all going to end the same.

“They always will.” 

The room was a brooding silence, blanketing over the white sheets of the bed and sucking the warmth from their bodies. 

“Do you still love me, Keiji?” Bokuto asked, chest seeming to light on fire and shrivel up at his words, his throat beginning to close as his eyes turned to glass that threatened to shatter. 

“I love you enough to know you shouldn’t be with me,” Akaashi said back, unfazed, as if it were an answer he’d known all his life, “You deserve more than what I can give you.” 

“No, _no,_ we can still make this work, okay? If I just try harder, I know I can--” 

“Please, Kou, stop giving me chances when you know I’m going to waste them.” Akaashi turned to look at his fiance who was staring at him back, cheeks flushed and eyes sputtering tears that ate at his flesh, leaving stains wherever they went. 

“You’re perfect to me as long as you stay.” His heart betrayed him, pumping fast as it seemed to collapse upon itself. 

“If I stay, you’ll only be miserable,” Akaashi stood up, hand leaving Bokuto’s as he slipped on his pants and pulled the beige sweater over his head, “And you deserve all the happiness in the world.” Tears fled his eyes now, his head and neck turning to meet eyes that used to shine brighter than any star, now dull and rigid with exhaustion, a fraction of what he used to be. 

Turning, Akaashi grabbed the bag that sat by the door of the room, walking out of it as Bokuto followed, chased almost, until they met at the door of the apartment colored in memories of their previous joy. Akaashi stopped there, in front of the tile of the doorway, muscular arms slinging themselves from behind and wrapping across his chest, hands gripping the fabric of Akaashi’s tear-stained sweater, a soft voice murmuring with all the strength it had, _“Please don’t go.”_

Akaashi’s hands followed the arms to meet them, gripping onto the soft skin there and allowing his head to fall forward and his eyes to produce more tears to wet the floor and fall for the last time. 

“I wish things could be different,” Akaashi said, pushing off the arms around him and turning around, cupping a hand to the cheek in front of him, Bokuto’s soon following and shaking as his pressed Akaashi’s fingers against his skin harder, catching the fresh, warm tears that came, quiet whimpers and sobs filling the room. 

_“I’ll never love someone as much as I love you,_ ” Bokuto’s words came out in stutters, his entire body seeming to shake now and his nose beginning to run. 

“But you can never be happy until you let me go.” Akaashi moved his other hand to graze Bokuto’s barren cheek, wiping away sobs that proceeded, ignoring his own crying. 

“ _...I don’t think I can do that,”_ Bokuto’s eyes were shutting now and his breathing shaky, everything around him crumbling as they stood there, _“ You are my happiness, Keiji.”_

“I know someone will come along and bring the color back into your eyes.” Akaashi’s hands tightened their grips as his own arms began to tremble at his words, forcing a smile but his stomach felt sick. 

_“No,”_ was all Bokuto could manage, allowing Akaashi to bring him in for a kiss, lips meeting in slowly and tenderly, goodbye written all over it, both of them permitting themselves to cry in each other’s arms. Their lips abandoned the other’s now and Akaashi looked into the eyes of who was supposed to be his soulmate for the final time, before slipping off the ring on his left hand and handing it to Bokuto, turning to open the door. 

_“Goodbye, Koutarou.”_

And just like that, he was gone. The door closing behind him and leaving Bokuto crouched against it sobbing into the crippling silence of a once laughter-filled apartment, gripping onto the ring in his hand as if he were protecting it, _saving it,_ for an Akaashi that would never come back. 

And Bokuto couldn’t breathe anymore, or maybe he just didn’t want to, nor could he hold himself up, sputtering and choking and gripping the carpet to feel something, _anything,_ but the hollowness ricocheting off the walls of his ribcage and through his pounding heart as it ripped to shreds. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! im working on iwaoi for a later, much longer story so erm stick around to read that i guess? leave your opinions in the comments, or not, but I'll try to respond


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